


Just Fine

by vands88



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Episode Related, Episode: s02e09 Asterisk, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Episode: s02e09, Pre-Slash, Wakes & Funerals, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vands88/pseuds/vands88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a fill on a kinkmeme. Only rated for Harvey's naughty language.  </p><p>Set after 2x09. Spoilers up to that episode. </p><p>Mike needs looking after, and with a nudge from Donna, Harvey ends up standing at Mike's door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Fine

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a fill on the kinkmeme after the episode came out but I've only just got round to putting it on the archive. Please bear in mind it was a quick fill and so it's not gonna be perfect!

Harvey gives Mike a week off work after his grandmother dies. Harvey phrases it as non-negotiable, and so Mike accepts it. Really, Harvey thinks, allowing Mike to take grievance leave at a time when he most needs him should count as his condolences enough.

Donna, of course, knows everything. “If you’re so worried about him, then go see him.”  She says on the second day; completely out of the blue as they had been discussing the upcoming Senior Partners’ Meeting. In retrospect, Harvey supposed her clue was that he went an entire discussion so distracted by the lack of Mike Ross that he forgot to even _imply_ that Louis Litt was an insufferable git when on a usual day he could throw in at least three metaphors to that effect within the hour.

Harvey didn’t think Donna’s statement was worth his precious time and energy to contradict, so he let her leave with one of his hard stares piercing her back and got back to work. Worried about Mike? No, if he was worried, it was about missing something in the five year old briefs in front of him because his proof-reader was absent writing poetry emo enough to best teenagers or picking flowers with a bittersweet childhood story behind them. God, Harvey should be _happy_ that Mike isn’t here to mope around the office. 

-

On the fourth day, Donna doesn’t give Harvey a choice. “He needs you.”

For one bizarre, utterly surreal moment, Harvey thinks she means Daniel Hardman. A witty and disrespectful comment is on the tip of his tongue but the worry lines in Donna’s forehead stop him.

“Mike,” Donna says, “He really needs help.”

“Help…?” Harvey asks, an eyebrow raised. He gestures comically around the office, “I sure hope you’re talking to someone else in this office Donna because I don’t know what the hell you think I can do. He’s an adult like the rest of us– “

“No, he’s not. He doesn’t have family to help him through this Harvey. No parents, no siblings… he has no idea what he’s doing.”

“He’s a lawyer, he knows the proceedings  - “

“Textbook maybe. Not the reality.”

Harvey gives up glaring at Donna from his desk and starts pacing. It helps, a little. “And you think I can help…?

“Your father – “

That stops Harvey pacing. “Surely, you don’t think that’s the most healthy way to deal - ”

“Not what I was going to say.” Donna interrupts, “God knows I don’t want you to teach him the Harvey Specter method, but he’s spent the last four days in some sort of sulky-drugged-induced-coma. Get him out of it.”

-

Standing outside Mike’s apartment door, Harvey’s still not entirely sure how Donna blackmailed him into this. It must have included another round of, “You let me get fired” with a side salad of “You owe this to Rookie”, and a sneaky emotional dig at his past – but however she did it, the fact that Harvey is standing in his associate’s doorway is testimony to her goddess-like powers of persuasion.

“You look like shit.” Harvey says and takes advantage of Mike’s surprise to cross over into his tiny apartment. Previously when Harvey has been here, it’s been messy, but this is… Harvey doesn’t possess an adjective strong enough to describe the abundance of stuff literally covering every surface. Donna is right, it’s like Mike has just been hibernating away for the last couple of days. “Forget what I just said. Your apartment’s worse.”

“Did you just come here to insult me?”

“No, although it’s part of the package. I came here to tell you to get your act together as you obvious need a kick in the right direction.” Harvey realises how harsh he is being, but in his defence, he knew this was going to be a difficult conversation, “Look, I get that it’s a shitty time. But you need to get your grandmother’s affairs in order, you can’t just hole up and put things off forever.”

For the first time since entering Mike’s apartment, Harvey actually forces himself to look at him – the empty eyes, the unwashed hair, the gaunt face, his skin and bones still unnaturally skinny despite Mike hiding under a large sweater.

“When was the last time you ate?”

This question appears incredibly complex for Mike, his brow furrows and he points to a carton near the sofa, “I had pizza.”

Harvey flicks open the box with the toe of his shoe and actually sees the grease leave a mark on the polished black leather.  He cringes, but continues on with his task, calculating the ratio of pizza that Mike has consumed over the last few days. “You’ve had two slices.”

Mike shrugs. He really doesn’t care that he’s wasting away, Harvey thinks, if I wasn’t here now, I’d find him dead with a roll-up still in his mouth in a week’s time. It makes Harvey’s stomach clench unpleasantly.

“Ok Rookie, here’s what you’re doing to do. Have a shower. Stop the drugs. I’m going to order something with vegetables in it and you’re going to damn well eat every last forkful of it. And then we’re going to plan your grandmother’s funeral.”

-

Harvey thinks he’s never seen Mike so quiet. He barely says anything as Harvey talks; no banter, no contradictions, no obscure references to B-movies. Nothing.

They sit at Mike’s little breakfast table, a mug of black coffee (Mike’s milk was cheese by this point) grows cold between Mike’s palms. If Mike’s grandmother had not just died, Harvey would be ninety-nine-percent sure that the silent treatment was the best method of torture Mike could come up with because this was definitely on the list of Harvey’s Top 5 Uncomfortable Moments Of All Time. And he’s _Harvey Specter_ for godsake. This is what finally prompts him to ask, with only a slice of sarcasm, “Do you…want to talk about it?”

Mike glares.

That’s a “no” then.

“Ok, so you said you have a copy of your grandmother’s will?”

And that was it. Business. They could do this if they just treat it like any other case.

-

By the time five ‘o’ clock comes round, they have a rather detailed and straightforward To-Do list sitting on the table between them amidst empty coffee cups and half-eaten takeaway . A funeral (more or less) planned, an itemised list of the things Mike would like to inherit, a list of businesses and family members to call, and various other chores all listed. And best of all, Mike almost looks human again: his eyes are focused (if tired), he looks a little less pale, and he even references Tarantino. (Obvious, but a relief nonetheless.)

Harvey is about to make his excuses and leave when Mike grabs his arm.

“Top of the list is ‘sleep’, right?” he asks.

Harvey nods.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can do that…”

Harvey raises his eyebrow.

“I’m tired,” Mike admits, “But, I…”

Before Harvey quite knows what is happening, Mike is crying in front of him. Hunched shoulders, face in hands, breaths coming short and shuddering… definitely crying. Hysterical crying. Harvey isn’t prepared for this. Harvey especially isn’t prepared for the clench under his ribs at seeing his associate this broken. This caring bullshit, he thinks, but he slides off his chair and kneels down beside Mike anyway.

Now what? Harvey places his hand experimentally on Mike’s shaking back. Mike tenses, then relaxes further, sinking into Harvey’s touch. Good so far. Harvey slides his hand further until his arm is wrapped entirely around Mike and there is a blonde mess of hair on his shoulder. Tears, snot, and the dirt all over this grimy apartment… Harvey definitely needs this suit dry-cleaned ASAP. Still, not the most important thing.

The important thing, Harvey thinks, is having his Mike back. This version of Mike is not quite right. He wants him smiling again, laughing, bickering, even mocking his awesome record collection would be fine, but this is horrible. Come back to me, he thinks. Subconsciously Harvey’s hand seems to circle on Mike’s back, a universal comforting touch, and it seems to work as eventually Mike slumps with exhaustion against Harvey.

“Ok,” Mike says, his voice a little cracked, “I think I can try that sleeping thing now.”

It’s so damn cute that Harvey leans into him and without thinking brings his lips to Mike’s head. He freezes, lips hovering over Mike’s hair. Harvey was about to kiss him. No, they don’t do that. Harvey pulls away abruptly and holds Mike at arm’s length.

“You’ll be just fine, kid.” Harvey says, looking for the first time into Mike’s eyes.

Mike nods, “Yeah, I will.” And he says it like he knows everything; knows what Harvey was about to do, and knows what’s happening back at Pearson Hardman, and knows about Harvey’s past.

And really, Harvey thinks, as long as they stick together everything really always will be…just fine.


End file.
